Mr. Thomas Ackerman Kemble was also a football player and had captained last fall’s scrub before he had been elevated, like Clif at the last moment, to a half-back’s position on the big team. He was very good looking; I had almost said handsome before I had thought; with the sort of skin from which the tan never quite goes, very dark gray eyes and brown hair that verged closely on the copper. In height he was half an inch, perhaps, shorter than Clif, and he was perceptibly heavier without being large. That half inch was not apparent since he was extraordinarily straight of body and carried himself so that he could have spared another half inch and still seemed as tall as the other. Tom’s chin was rather assertive, but in spite of that he was as good-natured and big-hearted as a mastiff; and, like a good many good-natured fellows, he could be extremely stubborn. I have left Loring Deane to the last, which, since he happens to be the host, is scarcely polite. But Loring requires rather more description than his friends, and one is likely to postpone the larger task. It seems almost necessary at last to make use of that proscribed word, but I shan’t do it. I shall avoid it by saying that Loring was awfully good looking, with the sort of features one associates with the Greek heroes. He had hair that barely escaped being black and he brushed it straight back from a high, broad forehead. His eyes were just as dark as his hair, and they always had a sparkle in them. His skin was fairer than that of his companions but it showed plenty of healthy color. In fact, perfect health was perhaps the first thing you thought of in connection with Loring, and perfect health is the one thing he possessed to a lesser extent than any of the three.